He gurgled as if trying to communicate. She did not wince. “Will you come round to the hospital?” he asked. . She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension.
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